On The Road Again
by georgiemily18
Summary: Wrote a fanfic about the walking dead, set after season 4's mid season finale. From Daryl's POV because he's my favourite :)


On The Road Again

Chapter 1

My name is Daryl Dixon, younger brother of Merle Dixon (deceased), and surviving after the end of the world.

It's been a couple months since we fled the prison. After The Governor killed Hershel and let all those god-damned walkers into OUR home. Bastard. I'm holed up in some deserted old semi-detached in a long since dead town. "Devil's Creek" the sign said as we rode in. Been lookin' for the others every day, but got no idea where they would likely head. I gotta find 'em though, for Beth. She's hardly said a word since we found this place. I know she needs her sister so they can grieve and get through it, but she just sits there, all day, gun firm in 'er hand, waitin'. Waitin' for something she can shoot at. Beth's definitely changed in the last couple months, it's good she's growin' some balls – need to in this world- but it's important she doesn't lose herself completely. I know she's tryin' to be tough but I hear her cry at night, can't blame her. I'm still relivin' the day I had to kill Merle. But I didn't really kill 'im. I got the monster the governor left behind.

I'm sittin' on the edge of the bed in the corner of the second upstairs bedroom that must have belonged to a little girl. The walls are painted light pink and there are posters of teenage boys from magazines she probably kissed every night. A few dolls are sittin' abandoned in the far corner across from me, where she would've been playin' with if she wasn't dead. I know this 'cause the remains of a kid were in livin' room downstairs. I disposed of that quickly before Beth could see. Beth's perched on the windowsill, shot gun in hand like she normally is while I polish my crossbow. I only have about ten bolts, had to leave some behind at the prison. We got the crossbow, a couple guns, our knives and not enough bullets. Twelve last time I counted. Need some more food too. Everything in the fridge was rotten, stank like hell it did and we're livin' off the biscuits I found in my bag.

"I think I'll do a food raid while I'm lookin' tomorrow" I say but Beth doesn't answer. She never does, just curtly nods her head a little and that's the extent of the conversation. I push myself off the bed and head downstairs. Gotta be quiet so we don't alert any nearby walkers. We couldn't have the lights on even if the electricity was still workin'. I check the trip wire we set out in case any flesh eatin' deadies stumbles through. I boarded up the doors and windows but you can never be too careful, I learned that after the flu outbreak in block D back in the prison. The bells jingle loud enough to hear upstairs so I go into the kitchen to check our supplies. Not enough. We won't survive more than two days with the water we got. I do need to make a run, God where's Glenn when you need 'im?

I take the last three biscuits with me back upstairs to give to Beth. Too thin for an eighteen year old girl. My stomach growls in protest but I ignore it. Used to goin' without food. Been that way since I was a kid.

"Daryl!" Beth whispers urgently when I come in. I go over and see a walker shambling in the middle of the street towards our hideout. Pretty sure one of 'em could smell you from a mile away and once they do, nothin's stoppin' 'em till they rip your guts out. She cocks her gun and aims but I put my hand out.

"We ain't got the bullets." I tell her as I reach for the crossbow. She moves out the way and I settle it on the window sill. Bolt pointing out the slightly open window, I zero in on it and pull the trigger. Walker goes down with no disturbance and we're as safe as we can be for now.

It's gettin' dark so I tell Beth to get some sleep while I take first watch. She goes without sayin' anything and I sit down on the old leather desk chair she found in the office. Scrubbed most of the blood off but there's still a bit dried on the arm rest. Ugh. I watch the sun make its grand departure behind the clouds and Carol comes into my mind.

Chapter 2

I wake up the next day at dawn feeling unrested and wantin' to kill summin'. I hardly slept last night, Beth and I switched around two am, but I stayed awake wondering what had happened to Carol. The Carol I used to know wouldn't kill two of her own but this world changes you, whether you like it or not and I can't help thinkin' that even if she is alive, she ain't MY Carol no more. Beth's awake by the window, reading a blue covered book written by some long –ago zombyfied author. My bag is next to her and she sees me lookin' at it, 'cause she tells me she packed it for the run.

"You got a map, flashlight, knife and the last of the water in there." She tells me in a flat, broke down voice. If I don't find Maggie and the others, she's gonna lose it one day soon. I don't voice my thoughts, just mumble thanks, grab the bag and crossbow and climb out the window.

You have to slide down to the edge of the roof, then jump down onto the grass below and hope a walker ain't waitin'there under the terrace for ya. We usually throw a roof tile down to see if anything jumps out. I do this and nothin' happens. I drop to the ground with a thud and the grass is wet. I remember hearin' the rain peltin' against the house last night. We need a place to stay, there have been nasty storms lately and we'd be dead without it. But I insist that we move every few days, 'cause like I said earlier, they sniff you out and then you're screwed. I slip my belongings over my shoulders and walk to my bike. Then I remember that we ran out of gas when we arrived here, so I guess I'll have to get that too.

"Damn I need a shoppin' list" I say to myself as I start walking towards a neighbouring house.

The wooden door opens with a creak and I step inside. The carpet is torn and stained with blood. It's dark and difficult to see but I think I can make out an arm by the stairs. It smells like someone died in here. Most likely did goin' by the arm. I slowly make my way down the corridor, shining the flash light into the rooms to check for walkers. All I find are old pictures of a happy-lookin' family. Not so happy anymore I bet. I chuckle to myself just as a hand whips around the door and grabs my foot. I fall so I end up face-to-face with a half-eaten corpse missin' one of its arms. Can't even tell if it's male or female. That doen't matter though as I hold its snapping jaws at bay and reach for the knife in my pocket. Finally gettin' it, I roll the thing over and plunge the blade through one of its eyeless sockets. It falls limp and I shove it away from me. I stand up, grabbing my stuff and head for the kitchen. There I find a box of crackers and a stale cookie. These days I'd say I'd hit the jackpot. I put them in my bag and head outside. Can't hang around too long. After searching through more houses, I find some packets of crisps and a tin of beans. I even manage to get gas. Spotted a few walkers gorging on another helpless victim but they were too distracted to notice me slip by.

Suddenly someone nearby lets out a gut wrenchin' scream. Someone musta got bit I think but they scream again and I swear I heard that voice before. Crossbow pointed in front of me, I follow the screams to a house with the front door knocked in. tables an' chairs are all over the place. Geezer put up one hell of a fight. There's the unmistakeable groaning of the dead comin' from upstairs. They sound feral; behold the human race reduced to wild, cannibalistic beasts. I climb over two dead ones on the stairs and find another three clawing to get into the bathroom. It's a womans voice shrieking from inside. I almost don't believe my eyes, after dealin' with the zombies, it's Carol in there.

"Daryl…" She whispers, exasperated, "you saved me".

I'm so happy to see her that I momentarily forget why she's here all alone and take the dirt covered woman into my arms. Her hair has grown, it tickles my neck and I feel her tears soak into my shirt.

"Are you alright?" I ask her, grabbing her by the shoulders and looking for bites or scratch marks. I'm relieved when I can't find any.

"I missed you." I tell her, looking into her eyes, telling her more with my expression. She nods and together we step over the bodies towards the world of the dead.

Chapter 3

We take turns carrying the fruits of my raid and as we walk down the deserted street. I ask her:

"Why'd ya have to kill 'em? It ain't like you."

"To stop the infection. Somebody had to do something."

"Ain't you even sorry? They were US. We don't kill or own unless there ain't no hope left"

I scream at her this time. Don't mean to, just so mad she doesn't seem to care about murderin' two people. She's startled by my sudden outburst.

"I had to; I made sure they didn't suffer." She replies, calmly.

"Still don't make things right" I mutter as we go past a dusty, beat-up VW. It musta been white once, but now it's a dirty grey colour with blood stains around the doors and broken windows. There's the torso of what used to be a man with half his throat missing hangin' onto the jagged edge of the window pain. Bloody glass sparkles off the road as the hot Georgia sun beats down on it.

We walk the rest of the way in silence.

Chapter 4

I have to smash a window in the back to get back in. We need leave tonight anyway, been 'ere long enough. After squeezin' the pack through the tiny window, I lead Carol through the house and upstairs.

"You can stay with us, if you want" I tell 'er, not sure if I trust her anymore.

"Thank you" She mumbles in return.

Then I look down and notice bloody footprints up the stairs. Looking back, they come from a door down the hall, slightly ajar. As I open it the rest of the way, there's a foul stench rising up from a cellar.

"Goddammit, Beth!" I shout - she could be in trouble.

Carol and I race up the stairs, takin' it two at a time and rush into the dead little girl's room. It smells like rotten eggs, probably cause the insides of a walker's head paints the formerly cream carpet and a mound of bloody, rotten flesh lies in the centre of the room. I hear Beth whimpering in the corner, shot gun clutched to her chest. I run over to make sure she's alright.

"Beth, Beth, look at me. Are you okay?"

Tears stream down her too-pale face and I see it in her eyes before I have to see the bite. There's a pool of blood on the floor next to her, trailing down from her forearm, where a chunk of flesh has been ripped out. I'm speechless, yet another person I've failed to save. I hug her.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I whisper softly in her ear. I hear a gun cock behind me. Turning around, I find Carol pointing a gun at Beth. Where did she even get that?

"Step away from her, Daryl. We all know what happens next and when she turns, we're both dead.

Carol says this, arm steady, cold eyes trained on her target.

"What do you think you're doin'?! We can chop it off or something, we can save her like …" I trail off. Beth is crying harder and louder now.

"It's too late, the infection has already spread. I'm sorry." Replies the woman standing before me.

I look down at Beth's chalkey skin. The veins look darker around the bite, still fresh with blood. A sheen of sweat coats her forehead and her breathing is faster. I know Carol's right, but I can't –

BANG!

That's when she shoots Beth in the head. As her lifeless body slumps to the ground, I stare up at the stranger holding the smoking gun.


End file.
